


those who wander (always seem to make it home)

by manamanaly (thesecretmichan)



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drabble, Everyone loves Nalia I'm sorry, F/F, F/M, Freeform, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretmichan/pseuds/manamanaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories featuring Nalia Surana's life as a Grey Warden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those who wander (always seem to make it home)

**Author's Note:**

> It's Nalia/Everyone. Everyone loves Nalia. Basically it's a giant pile of love where everyone loves everyone and they're happy and no one is sad because I say so. I'm so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> ...(I'm not sorry)

The first time Nalia begins to suspect she feels something more than a passing attraction for Zevran is in the Aeducan Thaig, fighting an unusually persistent horde of darkspawn about a day's travel into the Deep Roads. They'd all been knocked down a few times already - Nalia had a black eye and an unfortunate amount of burns and scrapes, Sten was nursing a wrenched limb, Morrigan a concussion, and Zevran had started a bet on how many ribs he could crack before the evening was through (Sten insisted the elf had a concussion. Zevran disagreed) - and all Nalia _really_ wanted to do was curl up on the nearest rock and sleep 'till she didn't feel sore anymore.

As luck would have it, however, the second she sits down on a semi-comfortable patch of dirt, a bolt of lightning whizzes by her face and into the rock structure behind her. Nalia smacks at her face with a hiss and whips her staff out, shooting a bolt at a genlock barreling towards her. Morrigan is up and at her side, but her movements are sluggish, and her ability to disorient is less effective than usual. Sten is clearly favoring his left side (though still cutting through the darkspawn with relative ease, a skill she's always admired in the qunari), and Zevran's face is pinched as he slices through a genlock on his right flank.

They're not doing well at all.

"Fall back!" Nalia shouts, grabbing Morrigan's hand and pulling her along. Morrigan shoots off another spell behind her, but Nalia still feels the witch's grip tighten as she allows herself to be dragged down the now-smoking tunnel. "Sten! Zevran!" she calls behind her. If they have any hope of punching through the horde, they're going to need to funnel them into a tighter area, force them to come at the group in relative single-file. Sten sees the plan rolling through her mind as plainly as if she'd said it aloud and nods to her, clapping Zevran on the shoulder and jerking his chin in hers and Morrigan's direction. Zevran nods, jams the hilt of his sword in the genlock's nose, and turns on his heel to retreat.

A hurlock at his right takes a swipe and Zevran goes down, his swords clattering to the stone beneath him.

Zevran doesn't get up.

Nalia nearly feels the ground give way beneath her. "Zevran!" she calls in a quasi-shriek, skidding to a stop and shooting a cone of ice outwards that barely misses Sten.

"Warden!" Morrigan urges. "He's down - the worst they'll do is trample over him. We still have to worry about what they're going to do to _us_."

Nalia's breath is coming quicker, and she hears her heart beating in her ears. Bile burns the back of her throat; Morrigan's right of course. If he's just unconscious, they're not going to do anything to him, and if he's not...

Nalia grits her teeth and shoots off another lightning bolt, gripping Morrigan's hand tight enough to bruise. It's another few hundred yards before they finally whittle the darkspawn down, before Nalia can jam a vicious bolt of magic right between the genlock emissary's eyes. She's standing over the body of the fallen darkspawn and it's not enough, she's still ramming spells into the genlock's lifeless corpse, still practically bursting at the seams with pent-up rage and frustration, and she can't see her robes or boots through the thick black gore she's dripping with. She lets out a roar and lightning crackles around her, shooting tiny tears and fissures in the ceiling and walls around her.

"-dan. _Kadan_."

Sten is talking to her. Shit. She's still heaving, a fine tremor in her fingertips, and she allows herself to lean back against his chest plate. Sten's warm and sturdy compared to Morrigan's cool comfort, and eventually Nalia manages to compose herself into a somewhat collected state. She takes in a slow, steadying breath.

"Shit," Nalia says after a moment. " _Zevran_." And she's jogging off back through the tunnel, blood dripping from her face and viscera falling off her in clumps, her boots making sick, squelching _splats_ against the dirt and stone beneath her.

Zevran is still lying further back in the cavern, bruised and bloody and goddamn _pale_ , and Nalia skins her knees falling down beside him. She doesn't move him for fear of injury, but presses her ear to his mouth, her long, sensitive ears listening for a heartbeat, for movement, for _anything_ to tell her he's still alive.

Zevran takes a breath.

Nalia nearly cries and grabs at his face, leaving behind streaks of darkspawn goo as she tells him with a shaky laugh, "Wake _up_ , you weak-ass assassin. Who said you could nap on the job?"

Zevran lets out a wet cough and a quiet _oof_ ; his left eye opens but his right is swollen shut. "My, my, but what a lovely face to wake up to," he says quietly. "Of course, I would much more prefer if we were naked, and _not_ covered in the blood of our enemies, but..." Nalia snorts and cuffs an uninjured part of his head, and Zevran laughs, "Yes, what? I am supposed to lie now?"

"I hate you," Nalia says definitively, leaning back on her heels and letting out a long, bone-tired sigh. "Maker," she hisses; she turns to Morrigan. "Please tell me we have some kits lying around somewhere. Or a bath I can sit in for about four days."

Morrigan's smile is soft, but there. "I will see what I can do," she promises, and walks off to find their packs.

Nalia nods again, and finally feels her heartbeat start to slow; the adrenaline that had powered through her so strongly just a few minutes ago is quickly bleeding out of her, and Nalia is starting to feel each and every bruise and burn she got fighting those blasted darkspawn. Her knees are screaming in pain, and she can't quite tell if this is a migraine from magic overuse, or if she somehow fractured her skull in the fight. Her spine bows and she practically crumples to the ground beside Zevran.

With what appears to be great difficulty, Zevran turns his head to the side to face her. "Are you alright?" he asks, and she can tell Zevran has _definitely_ snapped more than a few ribs. She's going to need to get up and heal those as soon as possible. But the ground feels so comfortable...

Nalia blinks, and realized someone has shaken out the contents of one of their backpacks and stuffed it under her head. Beside her, Zevran is pillowed on Sten's arming doublet, who is currently applying various herbs and poultices to his right shoulder and ribs while Morrigan oversees. Her own various various wounds have been salved and bandaged, and Zevran has his own mess of dressings he's currently covered with.

"Hey," she croaks. Zevran opens his good eye and _hmm?'s_ conversationally. She lifts one hand slowly, palm down, and says, "How're your ribs?"

"Ehn," Zevran says. "I cannot complain." Nalia raises an eyebrow and pushes a burst of healing magic towards him; he sucks in a quick breath as if he's been sucker-punched. "Oh, well _if you insist_ ," he whispers, and a look of utter bliss falls across his face. "Thank you, my dear - and my ribs thank you as well."

Nalia lets a weak smile curve over her lips. "No problem," she says, somewhat breezily, and forces some more magic out of her, despite the ants crawling around in the base of her skull. She squeezes her eyes shut.

A hand reaches out and closes over hers; her magic snaps off abruptly. "Nalia," Zevran says. "I am fine - I have been through worse."

"I know that," Nalia snaps irritably, her brow furrowing. Still, she curls her fingers around Zevran's. "'Doesn't mean I can't get upset when one of my friends goes down."

"Alright, my dear," Zevran says, almost _too_ indulgently, and Nalia mutters something uncharitable about his ears under her breath.

Zevran laces their fingers together.


End file.
